


Friendly Neighborhood Detective

by mcrningstar



Category: Brooklyn Nine-Nine (TV)
Genre: Crush at First Sight, Dorks, F/M, First Meetings, Fluff, Meet-Cute, Reader Needs a Hug
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-29
Updated: 2018-06-29
Packaged: 2019-05-29 02:54:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,990
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15063449
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mcrningstar/pseuds/mcrningstar
Summary: Living on your own in a dingy apartment in New York turns out to be harder than you knew to expect — you have so many bills to pay and not enough money, though the job you have makes a hell of an effort at keeping you as stressed as only humanly possible, and then there's the neighborhood you live in. It's probably the farthest thing of safe, but lucky for you, you happen to literally bump into the charming detective who's often paying visits to your building.





	Friendly Neighborhood Detective

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, fingers crossed this doesn’t turn out to be a complete dumpster fire??? I still don’t have all of this website figured out, and this is also my first time writing for B99 after considering it for a loooong long time, but A for effort, I guess :) (Also, English isn’t my first language so sorry if there are some embarrassing mistakes!)
> 
> There are some mentions of violence / murders, because the reader lives in a ”bad” neighbourhood but there isn’t anything graphic. The only warning should probably be for cliché fluff and awkward dorks, tbh. I hope you like it, feedback would be so so much appreciated xx

**MOVING OUT ON YOUR OWN** with the little money that a small-time waitress' gig earned, and no past experience in having an apartment, in Brooklyn no less, was not what you had hoped to call a _piece of cake_. In all honesty, with only a couple of months under your belt, it was already a painful experience that had left you crying yourself to sleep on numerous occasions, hoping for some relief from the stress you were constantly under, whether it was the demanding customers whose tips you pathetically relied on or the bills you scrambled to pay. Your neighbors were assholes, and you lived in a bad neighborhood in general — the two actually correlated, and subconsciously, you always found yourself clutching your belongings a little tighter than usual when walking back home after a tiring shift, cranky and with sore feet. It was no news that the area you lived in was infamous for its criminal activity, and although your parents would have never hoped for you to end up in a sleazy back alley like that, it was the reality you lived in.

Life was not a movie, and for that reason, your adult life was more of a slow ride than a steady uphill towards something better. Truth was, you were surrounded by danger, jerks, and ineffective house appliances, but you were surviving. You tried to be grateful for what you had — that was all you could do. And, whenever the shadows of the night grew beyond intimidating, you tried to carry out hope that maybe the notorious criminals you had heard whispers of would have at least a sliver of respect for their neighbor.

Still, you would _not_ be surprised if you one day came home to an open door and an empty apartment with all your valuables in the wind.

With a heavy job like yours where you had to put on your best, fakest smile day to day, you especially loathed Fridays. To some people, that made no sense — weren't _Mondays_ the worst and _Fridays_ the best? But to you, perhaps experiencing the bad sides of New York had left you with no option but to see the negative, despite your plucky attempts to remain optimistic. After all, Friday was the day you'd get a false sense of some kind of freedom, only to silently also dread the upcoming week in the process, in the fear that you were stuck in a circle you'd never get out of. Fridays were but a bitter reminder that things, for you, were far from perfect and there was no confirmation that they'd ever improve.

But, the least you could do to lift your own spirits, was to cook your favorite meal, one that had had a special place in your heart since you were a kid. To some, maybe it didn't seem that fancy, but all you wanted on a Friday night, was to take out the old recipe and enjoy a dinner alone, in peace. It had taken quite a few attempts to perfect, including an occasion when the fire alarm had gone off and alerted the authorities about an arsonist that had wreaked havoc in the neighbourhood as of late, only for the firemen and cops to come face to face with you, trying to put together some food all alone. Not your proudest moment, truthfully.

When yet another Friday rolled in, you were desperate to get out of work, and once you finally did, you immediately headed to the nearby grocery shop. A cab driver had completely ignored you, and at second attempt someone else had swooped in and _literally_ pushed you aside, so in a city where you simply couldn't afford any kind of vehicle of your own, you were forced to walk. A pain on your already aching feet, and add the weighty bag of groceries on your tired arms, and you had frustration bubbling up within you pretty well. Or maybe it was something more of _misery_ , the desire to break down and cry, wail about your life that didn't even suck as much as it could have, yet here you were, struggling to even open the door of your unreliable building.

Much to your delight, however, a bearded gentleman happened to exit the building, shoving the door open and, in the process, granting you access. "Thank you!", you made sure to call after him, but he barely acknowledged your existence, unless you counted the animalistic grunt that he scoffed your way — nothing new, you had learned soon after your move-in that these people did not have room in their lives for a somewhat young waitress and her desperate tries to be polite. They weren't either, so they didn't require it from you, but at the same time, you didn't want to risk letting your lack of manners cost you your life. It was a thin line you had grown better at walking — not being too rude for the sake of maintaining a good image, but not being too nosy either, in case you'd _actually_ stumble upon something criminal and get yourself in much more trouble than balancing the groceries.

With a groan, you adjusted the brown bag in your arms — _ugh_ , why couldn't they just have bags with handles like most stores? — before taking a wobbly step on the stairs, hoping your lack of vision wouldn’t stop you from making it up alive. You _had_ asked the fairly shady landlord about whether or not the elevator would ever be fixed, and they had promised it would take a few weeks at most. Of course, this had been months ago when you first moved in, so at this point, you weren't holding your breath. At least walking the stairs counted as exercise, and you lived on the second floor.

You were barely halfway through the stairs when you heard yelling from a few floors above you, alerting you immediately. With these people, you never knew what could happen, but you hadn't had much time to react in any way when a seemingly young man, dressed in a blue NYPD jacket stormed down the stairs, his feet going at insane pace. That also meant that he showed no signs of stopping, and in his rush to make it out of the front door, he shoved you, his elbow knocking the bag of groceries out of your arms and pushing you against the railing while he continued to flee out of the building. _Important policework,_ you inhaled deeply, reminding yourself as you watched your tomatoes tumble down to the dirty mat, the outrageously expensive donuts following right behind. _Important policework_ , you gulped, _more important than your stupid donut cravings._

To be honest, you were barely holding it together at this point, but you swallowed your emotions like you had learned was important to do at times and set down the half-empty bag. At least something had survived the fall, and at least the cereal box hadn't unfolded on the nasty floors. With your pride dying out for good, you knelt down to pick up the stuff you were too broke to let just lie there — okay, the tomatoes were gone for good, but one donut had remained in the little package and you were _not_ sacrificing that.

"Hey", a concerned voice spoke up from above suddenly, startling your heart out of your chest as you jumped and looked up warily, knowing very well that crawling at the feet of your troublesome neighbors wasn't a very good situation to find yourself in. However, once you had lifted your gaze, you found yourself warming up to the apologetic face of the cop that had nearly knocked you over, wasting no time in kneeling right beside you, hands already going to pick up the stuff that rested on the floor. "I'm sorry—I, uh, NYPD, you know", he referred to his jacket, flashing a goofy grin before growing more serious. "Me and my partner, we've been going after this guy for the longest time so I just kinda... _nyoooom_ ", he mimicked the sound of a race car, his hand helping with his performance as he tried to explain himself.

Letting out the driest, most unamused chuckle either of you had ever heard, you forced your stare to tear from his impossibly deep eyes and back to the cereal box you were reaching for. "Don't worry about it, I understand. Had to be important", you nodded, insisting that it was no big deal, but as you kept your head down to avoid the man seeing the sadness painted over your features, he sighed heavily — out of sympathy, clearly.

"No, hey, shouldn't have been important enough for me to do... this. I am sorry. Let me repay you for the, uhh...", he looked around, "tomatoes, donuts— _donuts_ , noice—and anything else that I totes demolished", he explained, gently poking the back of your hand with his finger, causing you to look up at him again. Forced to see him fully now, you couldn't help but feel a little flattered by the soft smile that melted over his lips, taking over the large grin while his entire, kind features radiated with hope for forgiveness. And as much as you wanted to blame everyone else for this crappy feeling in your heart, you couldn't help but smile back at him carefully. A sight that, frankly, made his heart flutter in the best possible way.

"No", you still disagreed, shaking your head as you grabbed the donut package and shoved them all inside the grocery bag. "You just made my building a little safer. One less criminal. I can handle a tomato-free weekend", you let the smile on your lips deepen slightly while you stood up and glanced at the name badge on his jacket, _"Detective Peralta"_ , tasting the words on your tongue curiously. You failed to catch a glimpse of the look that dawned onto his face, but it seemed that he truly liked hearing you say it, not to mention _like that,_ but he tried to play it cool. Emphasis on _tried._

"Okay, okay, okay, okay", he was undeniably impressed. "Well, if you ever want the tomatoes, you know I gots 'em", he laughed, even if neither of you really knew what he meant by that, but before you could cling onto his odd choice of words, the detective had already cleared his throat to try again. "I mean—if you insist, Miss...", the man trailed off, giving you the chance to finish.

Slightly blushing at the sneaky attempt to catch your name — needless to say, it had been a while since you had interacted with anyone even remotely cute, and he... he definitely passed — you glanced down at your feet before giving him your hand awkwardly. "Y/L/N. Y/N. Y/N Y/L/N", you rambled out your name, and as he gently took your hand to shake, he nodded with a curious gaze brewing deep inside his magnificent eyes. 

And he was definitely thinking the same thing about you. Wow, hadn't today just been a huge success? First, he had caught the bad guy with his always-so-effective partner and now he was introducing himself to the cutest girl on the block? Okay, fair enough, perhaps the only girl he had seen on the block, but still.

"Nice to meet you, Jake, I'm Y/N", he smiled in amazement, "I mean, uh, the other way around. Jake. I'm Jake. Ha-haaa, _godyou'reattractive"_ , still shaking your hand and cringing once he realized that it was definitely time to let go. But, it didn't manage to scare you off — in fact, you thought his dorkiness was rather endearing. "Well, _Y/N Y/L/N,_ if you ever want me to make up for this whole mess, which you should, you know where to find me. Or, just wait for me to come back for some other dirtbag. This place really needs some investigating, wow. But I trust you're good, you know, I kinda got a thing for smelling out the bad guys — that's what I do", Jake's voice had a hint of smugness, and it actually made you smile, genuinely, for the first time in a while.

"Lucky me", you blurted out, picking up your groceries again and cradling the bag nervously. "I mean, not lucky as in this place sucks, but lucky that I have you—oh, uh, I think I should shut up and go now", a laugh escaped your mouth as you shook your head, and silently enchanted by the sound of your adorable giggles, Jake couldn't fight back a widening grin.

"Oh, no, by all means, I don't mind the compliments", he popped the collar of his NYPD jacket, fingers running through his dark, soft hair — which really shouldn't have been as attractive as it was.

Lifting an eyebrow at his proud expression, you snorted and turned on your heel, returning to the stairs you hated a little less now. "See you around, Jake", you said your goodbyes with hope lingering behind your words, and with equal optimism, he returned the favor.

He just really hoped that you didn't see him accidentally slam into the door face-first, caught in watching you go and disappear into the hallways with admiration all over his face, his heart racing in his chest almost as quickly as the butterflies in his stomach. It was odd, definitely not the usual kind of attraction he was used to feeling. No, this was something else, and he wanted more. More of it, more of you, more of this.

And finally, you too, had something to look forward to, something to wait for with actual hope of it eventually coming true.

 

—————

 

**ALL IT TOOK WAS ONE DAY.** One day, and you were waking up to the sound of a knock on your door, your groggy frame dragging itself to the tiny foyer while you rubbed your sleepy eyes open. For a second there, you were already cursing whatever or whoever had woken you up early on your day-off, but as soon as you had swung the front door open and witnessed Jake Peralta in all his glory, except out of the NYPD jacket and in a worn-out leather jacket — although the colorful flannel still remained — you felt less beaten by the invasive rays of sunshine that had blinded you. "Oh, uh, hi", was the most sensible thing you could let out of your mouth, your voice still hoarse, and quite possibly the most precious thing Jake had ever heard, while the most precious thing he had ever _seen_ had to be your adorable unicorn pajama pants.

_Oh, God,_ Jake reprimanded his own thoughts, _you just met her, stop imagining what it would be like to wake up next to her. Every morning. For the rest of your life._

_"Tomatoeeees",_ he sang while pointing at the grocery bag you only now noticed to rest on one of his strong arms. "And other stuff, too, but tomatoes sounded the best. No, wait, actually _donuuuuts_ has a ring to it too", Jake gasped, peeking around your apartment before nodding down at your pants and grinning. "Cute PJs, by the way", he commented cheekily, and turning red at the realization that you had jumped out of the bed for this, you started to rake through your knotted hair.

"Uh, what are you doing here?", you questioned in uncertainty, though when you understood how rude that sounded with you still making him stand in the hallway, you stepped aside. "Oh, come inside, for sure", and with that, Jake was warily entering your apartment, his curiosity letting his gaze wander around — thankfully you had done some cleaning up last night, like a real Snow White you had let your good mood get to you, and while humming your favorite songs, you had vacuumed and done the dishes. Maybe you had been subconsciously hoping for something like this to happen, yet when you turned around after shutting the door, it felt like you were still dreaming. Surely, there was no other explanation to why an undoubtedly handsome cop was standing there, of his own free will, groceries in hand and a smile on his unfairly pretty lips.

Remembering then why he, indeed, was there, Jake looked down at the stuff he had brought with him. "Well, my buddy Charles asked what I was going to do this weekend, and I thought that I'd stop by with donuts and coffee to make up for yesterday. I'll admit, at first it was to get out of the partners' spa day he thought meant _detective partners_ instead of _romantic partners..._ But, really, though, I felt bad. That was really unfair, so I got some breakfast and other stuff I destroyed", he exhaled, handing you the bag, "so, here you go."

Taken aback by the kindness you had barely come across in all the handful of months you had spent there, you slowly but gratefully accepted the bag. "Thank you, wow. This is really sweet", you breathed out in wonder while digging through and seeing what he had brought along — indeed, he had not lied about the coffee and donuts. Looking up with a teasing grin, you then nudged Jake. "That partners' spa day sounds thrilling, though", you pointed out, and unwilling to lie, he made a face and placed his hands on his hips.

"Yeah, to be honest with you, that's only later today and it did not take much encouragement to get me to agree", he let out a breathy laugh, making you do the same. "But I do have time for some coffee", Jake added quickly, and with your wide smile melting into one of pure gratitude and happiness, you nodded.

"So do I."

Maybe, living in such a terrible building with such unreliable neighbors wasn't _all_ bad, after all. At least not with a charming detective like Jake Peralta around.


End file.
